


Your Cappuccino

by St_Machine



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: F/F, Florabella, POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5366273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Machine/pseuds/St_Machine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What may Isa think about while Florence is drinking her cappuccino?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Cappuccino

**Author's Note:**

> Go on posting some of the tumblr fanfiction here. Inspired by the smell of the cappuccino once floating above me.

I love watching you.  
Love watching how you drink your cappuccino in the café where the scent of the chocolate, cinnamon and the coffee is floating in the air and creeping into our nostrils, seducing us with its fragrance. I can see you putting the sugar into the cup, stirring it. Then you sip it slowly and the cream sticks to your upper lip and the corners of your mouth. Chuckling softly but still unaware of this fact, you look up at me, making me linger my eyes on your face and bend over the table to wipe the cream mustache gently. You still can’t stop giggling and as you say “thanks” I recognize the careless sparkles in your beautiful green eyes.

“Not at all.”

You take another sip and give me one of your irresistible smiles.

*

I love watching you worrying and fussing about something. You bite your lip and frantically whip through the rooms like a redheaded hurricane. “Isa, didn’t I forget anything? Isa, help me! Why are you standing here motionless?!” you exclaim and raise your eyebrow in wonder. I’m staring at you enchanted by what I see - lips formed in a thin line, your eyes glancing at the room in search of every forgotten thing, the keys or the book of poetry, the piece of clothes or anything else. And although you asked me and want me to answer it quickly right now, in this moment so that you can go on packing your luggage. But I can’t say a word, just gazing on you like entranced and desiring to touch your cheek, to make you smooth your brow. Why hurrying if you have already tossed everything into your suitcase and zipped it? Don’t worry, there is still some time for us.

“You’re the best, love”, I say quietly and just tell you a general truth. State a fact. And you can’t argue with me, because you know I’ll win. For you are always beautiful and smart and punctual for me, even when you are terribly late or crying your eyes out for hours. You’re always the best even if you fail and upset by your fiasco. “You forgot nothing, I promise,” I plant a kiss on your cheekbone as if I thought only of showing you my support.

“Really?” you stare at me as a little naive girl asking her mum whether the monsters or the ghosts really don’t dwell under your bed.

“Of course,” I promise you solemnly. “How can you doubt?”

*

I love watching you in the cities when we just arrive there. You jump out of the car and laugh happily like if you meet an old close friend or encounter a completely new exciting person that will surely be your mate. You’re open to all the winds and all kinds of people and it doesn’t matter what they might think about you. They’re all the best for you, each of them, every face in the busy crowd is the most amazing and unique in the universe. And you let them in, remember the indifferent expressions in their eyes but never condemn them for their ignorance or neglecting, oh no. Shining like a flame, you run the streets, with your hands in the air and your curls fly behind, you’re applauding the world and giving the city an ovation. Let them glance at you in astonishment, let them wonder who you are that you dare to break the rules and dance in the centre of New York laughing and doing your own secret ceremonials. I follow you, grasp your elbow and suddenly give out a loud happy laugh as you spin me around greeting the blue skies high above.

I embrace you, feeling your rapture, wildness and excitement, flowing into me and entwining us together. You are my flesh and blood and we’re the one pure emotion and energy, beating, beating, beating right here and this sound tries to break our chests. However, we’re stronger, because nothing can bring us down now. And I let you spin me, hug me and repeating my name like a tune.

I went blind for you but I still can see your smile that people around can’t ignore. Someone turns around, being afraid to miss the chance to catch one of the sunbeams you’re giving out like the sun.

All colours illuminate.

*

I love watching you sleeping. Believe me or not, but you’re never the same. One night you turn from side to side, frowning and mumbling something under your breath and another night you’re calm and then I’m about to say that your angelic face had never contorted into the pain and suffer and it had never been kissed by anyone. Except me. It’s our secret, my little pale redheaded girl, isn’t it?

I sit in the gloom of the awakening morning, observing you. For a second the shade fell across your face but I’m insecure of that really. I can see the lips having twisted and can barely hear the word you murmured incomprehensibly. I swear you’re like a child that I love with all my heart and soul, the little girl I want to cuddle against me and whisper a fairy-tail and rock to sleep. The red curls on contrast to the ghostly white pillow and I can’t help stroking it and letting my fingers sense their softness. When my hand creeps closer to your neck, you grasp it and squeeze in yours like the toy the kids are used to sleep with.

My beautiful girl.

*

I love passionately to distract you from what you’re doing at the moment.

It’s thrilling to start the game and to observe how you react to my tricks. I lean back in the chair pretending to be absolutely innocent and out of suspicion. Why, Flo, do you think I’m teasing you? Oh, yes, I actually am but the game has just begun. We can’t finish so quickly, what’s your opinion? Giving you a long gaze, I finally manage to draw your attention and catch your eye. Hey, haven’t you still disclosed anything? Good. Well, what will you say if I cross my legs and fix my look on you? Oh, I see you take more interest in me and for five minutes you don’t turn the page of the book you’re currently reading. Or, better to say, trying to read. Honey, I can feel you’re already captivated by me and the thrill rises while adrenaline makes the blood run faster through my veins. Let me stretch myself and yawn, with my eyes still on you all this time.

I love it how you stand up abruptly, breathing heavily, and rush to me, grab me and take in your embrace. In your jealous embrace as if there is someone here apart from us to see me playing with you. The kisses, light as butterflies, go down my neck and up to my chin and lips.

Can you see me twitching my lips in a triumphant smile? Apparently, because you immediately cover them by yours. Come closer to be the one.

*

“We’d better go. Don’t you want to be late for the flight, do you?”

When did you drink your cappuccino? Why so quickly? And there’s still some cream on your nose and corners of your mouth…

“Of course, no. We should hurry up,” I nod supporting you and get up from the table.

As you pass me by, I can feel the sweet scent of sugar, cream and coffee and the sudden shiver runs down my spine. My chocolate coffee girl. Sugar flame. I follow you to the exit as you walk confidently through the café. I know you carry the smell of cappuccino in your skin and lips that I must taste as soon as possible.

I’m addicted to you. This is you who I can inhale and feel in the depths of my heart.

People call that love.


End file.
